After, Before, Beginning and End
by r2metoo
Summary: DG is willing to do anything for the good of the OZ, but Dellia won't let her throw her life away. But who is watching out for Dellia? Wyatt/DG, Azkadellia/Ambrose Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

I've just been reading the archive a little (it's been so fun, there are so many talented writers on here) and I just realized that this story is NOT M for mature. It's more PG13. So I'm moving it. Carry on.

I suppose I must put a disclaimer here. I did not think of the Tin Man world or the characters and places contained therein. I recieve no money or chocolate for writing this work.

I wrote this story in four parts for a friend of mine, and she has convinced me to publish it. I'm a bit frightened as I've not done this before. Please be gentle.

**After**

Wyatt found DG by the Poppy Garden fountain. She was staring into it as though she were expecting some scene to play out in the sheets of falling water.

"DG, you can't do this," he said in his abrupt, matter-of-fact manner.

"Can't do what," she answered flatly, not bothering to turn to him.

"You don't love this guy. He doesn't love you. You can't marry him. It's wrong, you know it is. You're better than that."

She turned and he took in her bearing. Arms crossed under her breasts, little chin stubbornly set, eyes rimmed with red but no tears falling. Yet. She was in a fighting mood and he was about to be her punching bag.

"I don't have a choice. Even if my mother lives another twenty years, no one will support Azkadellia as queen, not after all she's done, and my father has no claim to the throne himself. I got us all into this mess, and it's my job to get us out. I will marry and produce an heir."

"In a few years, maybe. But not now. You don't have to now. You have time to fall in love with someone."

"Falling in love with someone may not be an option. I owe it to the people of the OZ to align myself with a stable, royal family."

"And what about love?"

Her stubborn chin got a lot more stubborn. "Love for my country is enough."

Wyatt couldn't fathom why someone as passionate and care-free as DG could say something so cold and calculated. It was something…well, something more like what he would say. "You deserve better."

"Like who, Cain? You need to tell me who. Who else should I marry? _You_?" _Yes_.

_Yes_. "At least I'd care for you, and you'd care for me too." _I'd love you._

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to do. Smile? Be happy? Hug him? Punch him? Anything other than the utter look of despondency that replaced her stubborn look of only a few seconds earlier. A track of tears fell down one cheek.

"That's exactly why I can't marry you." _Even though I want to._

He approached her cautiously, like one would a wounded dog. "Why not, kiddo?" He put his hands on her arms. Her tiny muscles were tense.

"Because I know us. Eventually, we'll fall in love with each other, and you can't love me. Not ever. No one can." _I already love you. _

"That's not true. You're amazing, and many people already love you." _I already love you._

Her cheeks turned pink and she looked down at her shoes. Both cheeks were now wet with tears, and one drop clung tremulously to her chin, now wrinkled with unvoiced sobs. "They shouldn't. I betray and hurt everyone who loves me."

Ah, so that was it.

"You have never betrayed or hurt me or Ambrose or Raw. We love you." When she turned her head and took a breath to argue, he jumped in, "We do. We love you." _I love you._

"And I betrayed all of you and hurt all of you." She sank down onto the lip of the fountain. Wyatt knelt in front of her. "You were in that suit…Raw's entire race was enslaved and Ambrose...the things he suffered because of me."

He managed to pull her arms off of her sides and chafed her cold hands between his.

"Your wife died. Your son was left to make his way alone, without his father. All because of me."

"And because of you, the OZ is now safe. Delia is now safe. I am safe. Raw and his people are safe. Ambrose is…Ambrose."

When that failed to elicit a smile, he changed tack.

"DG, I was imprisoned in that suit. I was left to rot, and my family had to make do without me. Not a day goes by that I wonder whether I should have…I don't know…stayed safe. Played nicely with others. Not made waves. Joined the Longcoats and just keep my head down and do what needed to be done for all of us. My life would be so _different_ now. But who knows in what way? My wife may still have died, or me. My son could have decided to follow in my footsteps instead of leading a resistance. I never would have forgiven myself for that. And who would have been there for you? Who would have kept you from getting yourself killed the first second you decided to do something stupid. Not me. You made a mistake when you were a very small child, but everything that happened afterwards worked together to this end where you are now. And you're going to give it all up to live a passionless existence because you think it's for the good of your country. How would it benefit anyone to see you miserable?"

"You make it sound like I'm making a great sacrifice, as though there is another option. I owe this to the people of the OZ. I owe a stable ruler, and Prince Janus is from an old, stable lineage. Even if I wanted to find someone else, there is no one here that I have not directly caused pain to. Not one person. Everyone in the OZ has suffered because of me directly. It's hard enough to see all of you every day. To be married to you…one of you," she suddenly corrected. "I just couldn't bear it." _You should be waking up next to_ her _every day; not me_.

"If you do this, then all of the sacrifice, all of the pain that we have already had will be for nothing. If you can't forgive yourself, then none of us can either. And we will never heal. You need to show that it can be done. That healing can happen." _That love can happen._

Her face crumpled as if it were imploding on itself. "But not for me. Never for me!"

He brought her close and held her for a moment before he decided that this called for desperate measures. He handed her his pocket handkerchief and let her dry her eyes, and then he…well, there was no better word for it…assaulted her mouth. She went stiff in his arms, but then she relaxed as he sucked first her upper lip and then her lower lip into his mouth. By the time he slipped his tongue between them, she was responding.

This_ is so right. _

_Oh Wyatt, don't ask me to do this. I can't. _

"You tell me you can live without that," he breathed against her ear. _I can't._

"I have to."

Cain stood up and brought her with him, shaking her ever so slightly. "Dammit, DG, do I have to make love to you right here? Because I will!"

Her eyes went icy cold. "I believe Janus expects a virgin on our wedding night, so it's best that you don't."

Well, Raw had told him she had put up about a million shields. And he already knew how stubborn she would be. Delia was the one who had given him license to seduce her into submission. Ahamo had turned the other way and Lavender's lips had quirked at that idea.

"I don't know about this Janus character, but if it were me, I'd slice my own arm open and bleed all over the sheets for you if it meant just one night—one hour—of loving you."

"You'd do anything for me?" Her eyes shone bright as she looked up at him.

"To make you happy? To make you smile? I'd do anything you wanted. I'd kill for you." _Hell, I'd_ live _for you._

"Then you have to let me do this."

_Gotcha_. "Not a chance."

DG definitely looked like she was about ready to hit him. "But you just said—"

"I said to make you _happy_." He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "This marriage won't make anyone happy, least of all you. When will you get that through your thick, stubborn, fool head?" _Beautiful head._

"I've already torn your life apart once," she whispered. _What if I do it again?_

"Then don't do it again. If you marry this idiot, that's exactly what you'll be doing."

"Why?" _Please mean it. Please mean it._

_Why_?! "Why do you think, kid?" _Oh Great and Powerful, let me say this without breaking down like a baby._ "I love…" his voice broke. "I can't possibly live…or imagine a future without you in it. With me." He clasped her hands, no longer worried she would run off. "I…"

"You."

"Love…"

"You love."

"ILoveYou," he said in a whoosh before his voice could betray him again.

"You love me," she repeated.

Wyatt took a breath. "I love you." Ah, this was getting easier.

The smile started at the corner of her mouth. It was slow to form, she was fighting it. But once it hit her eyes, she couldn't stop. "You love me." The suns had nothing on her smile.

Wyatt wrapped his arms loosely around her this time. She was no longer a bird to fly away. "Yes." _Forever and always yes. _

DG buried her face in his shirt. "But I'll just end up hurting you again."

"No you won't."

"I hurt everyone."

"No you don't."

She looked up at him. "What if—"

"Listen to me, Dorothy Gale. I won't live my life on what if. I will only live right here right now, and I know you. You would never hurt anyone willingly, and I know you learn from your mistakes. You won't hurt anyone unwillingly either. Not again. Not if you marry me instead of this fool Janus."

She fisted her hands in his shirt. "Marry you?"

"Marry me. When _you_ want to, not before."

Her lips twisted. "You'll really bleed all over the sheet for me?"

Wyatt couldn't help himself. He laughed. "If you want me to. But I don't care. I don't." _Your sister doesn't either…haha…better not say that. _

DG threw her arms around his neck and practically choked him. "Yes! Oh, Wyatt, yes."

_Yes_!

But before that happened...TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Before: **

But before that happened….

Wyatt was just about to enjoy a bath. It had been a long day—a long month if he was being honest and he usually was—and a steaming tub was just what the apothecary ordered. His copper pipes had just finished delivering sulfur-saturated subterranean hot spring water and he had _just_ removed his robe when the summons came.

Annoyed, he jerked his robe back on and took the note from the castle footman.

**_Wyatt, I need you here now. It's about DG._**

**_-Dellia_**

Suddenly startled, Cain realized that he hadn't seen DG in almost three weeks. _Three weeks! How?_

The answer was easy: he'd been busy. Not just normal-every-day-busy, but meetings-with-the-royal-advisors-and-all-the-security-officers-and-oh-yeah-his-son-and-that-sort-of-busy. There was just so much to do, and so few people who wanted to do it. In a way, he was actually rebuilding the judicial system of the OZ, which even after two years of Queen Lavender attempting to restore order, was still corrupt and ineffectual. There were only a handful of people he could actually count on to be truthful so there were many instances of real crime that had to go unsolved due to a lack of trustworthy investigators. Thankfully, Raw and his friends and family had set up a screening system so that potential candidates could be tested, but it was all moving very slowly. Abysmally slowly. And Wyatt's relationship with DG and Ambrose had suffered because of his dedication.

And now he was suffering because clearly something was very wrong with DG; so wrong that Dellia had to write to him. Why hadn't Ambrose said something? Why hadn't Raw? And worse of all, why hadn't he noticed? _Slipping up, old man._

Wyatt dressed quickly, throwing a dark blue court robe over his suit instead of his usual greatcoat.

At the palace, he was sent directly to Dellia's private receiving room where she was pacing by the tall windows. The queen and Ahamo were sitting by the fireplace, and Ambrose was standing near, looking vaguely guilty and twitchy. _Well, that can't be good. _

"Wyatt, thank the heavens," Dellia said, rushing to him and taking his hands. With her hair down around her shoulders and less makeup on, Dellia had taken on a very vulnerable look that she shared with DG.

"Dellia, what's going on? Where's DG? Is she hurt? Sick? Why wasn't I sent for sooner?"

"We didn't know!" Dellia said. "Come here, and I'll show you what my idiot sister has been up to. Ambrose!"

Ambrose jumped and stood behind Azkadellia then handed Wyatt two pieces of vellum from that relatively safe position. When Wyatt touched the papers, though, Azkadellia grabbed both his arm and Ambrose's and stepped out from between them.

"Oh no, Ambrose. You are going to face Wyatt on this one."

Ambrose visibly gulped.

_Okay, what could be so bad? _

The papers were typical for the royal palace. Under the Great Seal of the OZ, the direction was printed in gold ink and the Queen's names were listed in all their pomp and splendor.

The letter read:

**From: Ambrose, Royal Advisor to Queen Lavender of Oz, Holder of the Great Seal**

**On behalf of: Her Royal Highness, Dorothy Gale of Oz, Keeper of the Emerald**

**To: Lautrec, Prime Minister of Marshland, Holder of the Revenant Key**

**On behalf of: His Royal Highness, Janus of Marshland**

**Re: Marriage Proposal from Prince Janus to Princess Royal Dorothy Gale**

**Sir, **

**Princess Dorothy has carefully considered your proposal and has decided to accept. Your requirements are already met in regards to Article 3(a), and as a show of goodwill, the princess requests to be excused from any examinations, whether by doctor or other means to verify that her word is true. As to all other conditions, Princess Royal Dorothy is amenable and has her own list of requirements as follows: **

Wyatt stopped reading. "What is this requirement, Glitch?"

Ambrose twitched a little at the use of his old name. "Ah…the prince just requested that DG be…you know…intact…at their wedding."

"_Intact_?" there could not be more contempt in his voice. He was sure. He tried.

Ambrose tried to stop quivering and pulled himself up to his full height. "It means that—"

"I know what it means, curse you!" Wyatt ran his hand over his closely-cropped hair and briefly considered growing it out slightly so that he would actually have something up there to ruffle. Keeping his hair long was an impractical style, but there was something soothing about feeling your hair between your fingers. There was nothing soothing about this situation. "Ambrose, how could you have even taken the original letter to DG when it contained a list of demands. A doctor? Really? They would really carry it that far?"

"The Marshlands have a slightly more rigid social structure than the OZ does," Ambrose said helpfully.

Azkadellia threw her hands into the air and rolled her eyes as if to say, "_This_ is what I've been dealing with."

"Ambrose, how could you write this about your friend? Forget that DG is a princess, she's your friend too, and you put down on paper that she fulfils purity requirements!"

Ambrose had that look on his face that he got when he was about to say something detached and logical, but that ultimately missed the point. "Firstly, DG asked me to help her, and I did. As any true friend might, I may add. As for her virginity, it's a normal biological state, Cain. There's nothing to be embarrassed or prudish about. Sexuality is ultimately—"

Wyatt clapped his hand over Ambrose's mouth. "I'm just gonna have you shut up right there, friend. _For your own good_."

"Fampk oo," was the muffled reply.

He then brought his attention to the queen and her consort. Where were they during all of this? "Your majesties' permission to speak freely."

"You always have that permission," Lavender said, finally stirring on the settle. She seemed to be slightly shocked.

"Did you know anything about this?" He held up the letter.

The queen shook her head. "Of course not. I would have advised her differently."

"Trust me, Mr. Cain, both of us would have done everything in our power to stop her from this decision had we been told," Ahamo said, directing a glare at Ambrose who gulped audibly and took a step closer to Dellia.

"How was it found out?"

Azkadellia moved closer to the sofa, took her mother's hand and said, "Ambrose finally did something right and brought the letter to me before sending it. Legally, we really can't hold onto it much longer since the mail is scheduled to run again at seventh hour and it is a Royal Missive which gives it a protection all its own that no one but DG can override."

"So we have two hours to make her change her mind," Wyatt said hopefully. Surely all of them together would be able to get her to see the light.

Azkadellia gave him a look that he thought he'd never see on her face again now that she had been exorcised. "Ah…we've already tried. She's not listening to any of us. _You_ have two hours. You know what you have to do." Her raised eyebrow made Wyatt want to gulp himself. _Surely she didn't mean…_

The queen took his hand. "Please, Wyatt. You have to let her know how much we care about her happiness, how much we don't want to see her throw herself away like this."

Azkadellia was more to the point. "I know what you feel for her. Whatever your reasons for hiding it from her up to this point are your own, but I guarantee she feels the same for you. She's been avoiding all of us for about a month now, but you the most. I think she can't face you knowing what she's giving up for her own crazy reasons."

Raw was escorted into the room at that point, and he looked just as tired as Cain felt. He had been just as busy the last several weeks as Cain had been, and he seemed concerned but, of course, more in control than the rest of them.

"Raw feels nothing from DG," he said despondently. "She is closing her mind, putting up shields from us."

Wyatt explained very shortly what was happening, and Raw looked at him sympathetically. "Cain can help her see clear," he said with a nod. "DG will listen to Cain."

Wyatt wasn't so sure about that, but he kept it to himself. Raw explained that DG hadn't been seeing him either these last weeks, and Raw had sensed some sort of sadness and indecision in her, but had kept his distance because of her coldness. Wyatt couldn't help but think Raw could have done more, or at least told _him_ about DG's state and let him try to do something.

"DG not want my friendship right now," was Raw's sad response to Wyatt's unspoken emotional surge. "She is afraid of what Raw sees."

"You really think she'll listen to me?" Wyatt asked him.

"DG will hear your heart," he said confidently.

Okay, did everyone know what he felt for DG? He didn't even know what he felt for her.

"She's in the garden," Azkadellia said. "Do anything you have to. Make her _ineligible_. I don't care what you do, but don't let her do this."

Ahamo looked up sharply and then away at the word "ineligible," but the queen simply smiled down at her hands.

"You don't really want her to marry him, do you?" Azkadellia asked, searching his eyes when he hesitated. She grasped his arms, her eyes wide and green and beseeching.

"Of course not." _I want her to marry me._

_Oh Great and Powerful, where did that thought come from?_

Raw smiled at him widely.

Azkadellia had said that he might not be ready for this. It was true, he didn't feel ready. But sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. He had to save DG from herself.

**Later….**

"Her Majesty regrets to inform his highness that Princess Dorothy Gale is already spoken for, and asks for His Highness's congratulations on her upcoming nuptials, though a date has not been set as of yet. The Royal Family of the OZ wishes His Highness all the best in future endeavors, and is hopeful to receive a similar letter of announcement from the Royal House of Westermarch in the near future."

Prince Janus frowned at his Page before dismissing him. _Damn_! And DG had seemed so sweet and innocent when she was at the palace for his elder brother's coronation and wedding. He was sure, of course, that DG simply did not fulfill his requirement. It could be the only explanation.

Ah well. There were still other princesses to address.

**And later still…**

DG lay in Wyatt's arms, her head on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat against her cheek. He gulped. She laughed and stroked her fingers through his chest hair.

"You're telling me you could have lived without that?" he demanded.

She laughed again and propped herself up on her elbow. "I don't know; that was just my first time. I mean, it can't get better than that, right? Don't they always say that nothing beats the first time at anything? I mean, now that I know what to expect-"

Wyatt grabbed her and pushed her back onto the bed, kissing her more fiercely than a man who had just used as much self-restraint, resiliency and control as he just had in order to make his fiancée's first time amazing had any right to do, but he couldn't help himself. Where DG was concerned, he couldn't do anything by half-measures.

"Wait!" she said just when he was about to start showing her what his fingers really were for. He raised his eyebrow. "I just…I mean, don't you want to check the sheet? Make sure there's really blood on it?" she asked, her innocent eyes fluttering up and down with what could only be described as mock sarcasm.

Wyatt laughed and pulled her to him. "Only if you want me calling a doctor up in here."

Their laughter rang out loud and clear, startling Azkadellia, who had been prowling the hallway on a mission of her own. She entered the antechamber, wondering if DG was all right, but before she could knock on the bedroom door, the laughter shifted to something decidedly different, and the no-longer-wicked-sister gave a decidedly wicked smile and left the room, but not before casting a silencing charm.

_That's what sisters are for. _


	3. Chapter 3

**The Beginning**

Azkadellia wasn't sure exactly when it started. She knew it was around the same time that DG started being distant because of that stupid marriage proposal. For sure it was sometime around then that she just…started talking to him. He was easy to talk to. Best of all, if she did bring up something that happened in the past, he would let her tell him what was on her mind, and then he would take both of her hands between his and say very calmly and sincerely, "That wasn't you. It was the witch."

His sincerity and willingness to listen to her was what put him ahead of her mother and father and, yes, even DG. Unfortunately, DG held too much personal guilt to listen to Dellia reminisce about her past crimes against Ozmanity. DG would cry and hug her and say, "Oh, it's all my fault," which Dellia never found to be very helpful or cathartic.

In the end, Dellia was sure that if she hadn't started turning to him, he never would have told her about the damned letter. The letter, however, marked the first time he sought her out instead of her going to him.

"Princess?" he had said, knocking lightly on her opened study door and poking his head in a bit timidly.

"Ambrose, come in," she replied, surprised and absurdly pleased. "What is it? Is everything all right? You seem troubled." She didn't know why, but she wanted to smile hugely at him.

Ambrose gulped, his dimples thinning out as he frowned. "I seem to be…well, I'm afraid that I'm about to break the law."

Dellia smiled wickedly. "Break the law? You, Ambrose dear?"

His cheeks reddened. "I cannot…conscionably allow this to happen without telling anyone. And I know you will know best what to do."

The compliment did not prepare her for how angry she would become.

"Where is the original letter?" she demanded when he showed her the response. "I insist on seeing what this idiot prince is expecting of my sister!"

The idiot prince. She remembered him well. His brother, Jorel, had been pompous and slightly arrogant, but nothing compared to the younger prince. Still in his twenties, Prince Janus had been simpering, phlegmatic, and downright abusive, though the latter was only to his staff. Azkadellia had been privy to all of The Witch's deepest desires and ambitions, and she had become pitch perfect at finding similar negatives in others. Prince Janus had been a very, very small, narrow man who had big dreams of ruling a country some day. Apparently he had set his sights on the OZ. He wasn't about to get it. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Ambrose brought her the letter, which she roughly ripped from his hand, an action that would make her flush and hide her face when she remembered later. The original date had corresponded with the time that DG had began pulling away from her, but she suddenly realized that there was another absence from the castle lately. Their usual family circle had dropped by one in the past weeks, and she suddenly knew that something much bigger was happening than she realized.

"Ambrose, when was Wyatt Cain last here? To see DG, that is?"

"Perhaps three weeks? Why?"

She laid the letters on her desk. "I have an idea. Hear me out: DG gets this ridiculous letter of engagement from that ninny Janus, and immediately afterwards stops wishing to see one of her closest friends?"

"Raw hasn't been here very often recently either. They have both been quite busy of late, however, with the hiring of Tin Men and overhauling the Judicial system with you and the queen. Really, you've probably had more chances to see both of them than DG has."

"So, Raw is a Seer, and Wyatt is…what to DG? Her friend, certainly, but do you ever suspect more?" She raised an eyebrow.

He looked down. "Do you mean perhaps they have formed a romantic attachment?"

Azkadellia could not help but notice his blush, and she wondered at what it meant, but she found she could not dwell on that just now. Not when DG's happiness was at stake. "One can only hope. Did she give you any reason for accepting this proposal?"

"Well, she said it would be for the good of the OZ. She said a marriage to another ruling family from a neighboring kingdom would bring stability to the country. I did suggest that she could wait a few more years before marriage became a necessity, but she seemed resolute." He took a breath. "I am sorry, Azkadellia, but I am curious why you think DG may have formed an attachment to Wyatt simply because she has not seen him for three weeks, but you do not suspect Raw. It is true that interspecies marriage is frowned upon, but—"

Her look shut him up. "I suspect Wyatt over Raw because I can see a simple reason for her avoiding Raw: he can read emotions and she does not wish to lay herself so bare. But Wyatt? There is no reason that she should not wish to see him unless she has formed an attachment." She decided it was best to leave out her uncanny ability to feel certain things from her sister, and she had been aware of _something_ in that direction for quite some time. It was proof of DG's power that she had managed to hide the rest of it for so long. The strain must have been incredible. Dellia worried that her sister might be falling apart at the seams.

"I can think of a myriad of reasons why DG would not wish to see Wyatt, but I still do not see how you reach your conclusion."

"I'm a woman, Ambrose."

"I've noticed," he said quietly.

She shot him another look and he tried to smile, his dimples flashing adorably. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss those little puckers of skin. Suddenly, it all became clear. She knew that DG was in love with Wyatt because she felt…something?...for Ambrose, and she _knew_ she couldn't tell him.

All of the evil things she had done for The Witch flooded upon her at that moment, and she realized that she wasn't fit to lick Ambrose's boots.

Oh, and then Great and Terrible, there were the things she had done _to_ _him_. First there was the torture to extract the Sun Seeder diagram, and then the ultimate removal of his brain and exile of his person because he was such a good man that he would never willingly, even under the threat of eternal torment, give up the information.

And just like that, she knew exactly what DG was going through, because DG blamed herself for everything that happened in the same way that Dellia did. There was guilt there, deep guilt for both of them, and Dellia wasn't sure if she could ever forgive herself and she felt sure that she could never approach Ambrose with such a huge stain on her soul. What must DG feel? She blamed herself for starting it all.

But she wasn't going to let her little sister throw herself away. DG had to get married, it was true. She would be queen and the OZ needed an heir. But why should she marry the idiot prince Janus when Wyatt was there, always there. He smiled at her in that way…that way that Ambrose always smiled at Dellia.

Oh Good and Powerful, he did. Ambrose smiled at her…the way Wyatt smiled at DG…

Dellia looked up at Ambrose sharply, feeling so many emotions, and surprisingly, anger was one of them.

How dare he love her after all she'd done to him? He had no right. No right at all. He should hate her.

"Princess, are you all right? You look a little pale."

He walked towards her, and she felt the panic rise up. DG called it a panic attack, and that was exactly what it felt like. She had been plagued by them off and on since DG had saved her, and somehow Ambrose had always managed to talk her through them.

Hot tears pricked at her eyes as she fell back into her chair, gasping for breath. Ambrose knelt before her and took her hands between his.

"Look at me," he said quietly.

She focused on his beautifully arched brows and deep brown eyes as she tried to breathe normally.

_Calm_. She could handle this. It was nothing.

_Calm_. DG. She had to focus on her sister.

_Calm_. She needed her mother and father.

"Mother," she gasped.

"I'll send someone for her, but I won't leave you," he said as he stood and went to the door.

When he came back, the vice was almost gone from her chest.

_Calm_. Everything was going to be all right.

_Calm_. It was all in her head.

"Here's some water," he said, handing her a glass. "I know you can hold the glass."

Her hands shook, but he was right; she could hold it. He still helped guide it to her lips, his hand warm and strong over hers.

The queen and Ahamo then burst into the chamber with a slight amount of bustle. Lavender ordered Dellia be taken to the lounger to lie down, and Ahamo helped her up.

"I gotcha, baby," he whispered, and she was absurdly reassured at once.

"What happened?" Lavender asked Ambrose.

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, we were just talking about this proposal that DG accepted and the princess suddenly—"

"Proposal!" both parents exclaimed almost at once.

"Perhaps I should start more at the beginning."

Ambrose had told his story, and they had confronted DG who resisted them and seemed less than thrilled by their interference. Little by little, Azkadellia had gotten her equilibrium back. Eventually, she sent for Wyatt and he helped DG see the light.

And so, Azkadellia could just walk away and continue her life. DG was now more open, and though Wyatt made sure he came by to romance her almost every day, he still had plenty of work to do elsewhere leaving DG to Azkadellia for her usual companionship again.

But, for whatever reason, Azkadellia found herself back in Ambrose's office at the same time she usually found herself there, in the same chair that she usually took, and looking out the same window that she usually looked out of. Only today, it was in order to keep from staring at him.

He really was very nice looking. Maybe he wasn't as blatantly masculine as Wyatt, though she knew he could handle himself in a fight if he absolutely had to. There was something in his quiet intellect and his soft brown eyes, though that she found more intriguing than Wyatt's grit. And Wyatt might look fine in his Tin Man clothes, but she found Ambrose to look so very nice in his military cut jackets and highly polished lace-ups.

"Princess, if I may offer an observation, you don't seem quite yourself today," he said quietly.

She still couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry, Ambrose, but I'm a bit preoccupied today. Maybe I should leave you in peace."

"Your presence does not bother me in the least. In fact, I have gotten on much better with my calculations since you entered."

She spared herself a look at him then. The late afternoon sun shining through the window warmed his skin and glinted off of the few silver strands that littered his dark curls here and there. He wore his dark blue jacket with the severe cut, high neck and the minimalist line of silver buttons down the front. Only his medaled sash hinted at his importance to the kingdom. If her mother required his services, he had a mantle close by that he would clip around his shoulders and a sword belt hung near the door, complete with a ceremonial, albeit fully functional, sword attached. There was something so comforting about knowing that he could work out complex quantum linear systems and also behead a man. Probably simultaneously.

"Ambrose, I'm very sorry for how angry I was at you yesterday. You did not deserve it. You were actually amazing. I don't know how we could have averted that crisis without you."

He looked up from his diagram—it looked like it might be a new algorithm for the view-screens, which DG always said looked grainy—and smiled slightly. _Ooh, those dimples!_ "Thank you, Azkadellia. I am still amazed at how well you handled everything, particularly in regards to Mr. Cain. I did not perceive any anger from you."

"You still don't believe that I knew about his feelings for DG, do you?"

He lifted his hands as if in surrender. "I believe that you knew; what I marvel at is your intuition. I would never have come to such a conclusion based solely on the evidence you had. But then, intuition is not evidence. Nor is it always logical."

"Sometimes, intuition can be as important as evidence," she answered, turning back to the window. There was snow on the mountains. Fall was coming, and Dellia thought about hot apple cider by the fire at Finaqua as she listened to the scratch of Ambrose's pencil.

"The equinox is nearly upon us," he observed aloud. "I believe Wyatt hopes to have a fully functioning Tin Man crew together by then so that we can have our usual celebrations."

"Mother and I have been redrafting and modifying Judicial law every morning with the Home Secretary. He has been nearly kind to me these last few weeks. We are almost done."

The scratching stopped. "Why would he not be kind to you?"

"None of the secretaries are. The Secretary of defense is downright hostile, and DG has a mind to replace her soon if she does not buck up, but I doubt she will. She has her reasons. She had to live in the Hinterlands thanks to me."

Ambrose stood from his chair and walked around his desk until he was standing directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.

"The Witch, Azkadellia. Thanks to The Witch. Not thanks to you."

Dellia tried to smile, but she simply could not. If Ambrose, who had been tortured and then robbed of his brain was able to forgive her, then why was Fridaliesel, who had merely been exiled with all of her family in a very comfortable, albeit small, shack in the Hinterlands not able to forgive her? What did she have to do? Bleed? Die?

She had a feeling it was the latter.

And then, Ambrose took her hand and pulled her up until she was flush against him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight. In shock, Dellia stood motionless for a moment, but then she lifted her arms and pressed her hands to his back and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

Oh, it was so nice. His body was warm and solid and then he began to slowly stroke his hand over her hair. Dellia closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of him. She wanted to stay like this forever, to never move away from the warm, safe circle of his arms.

Impulsively, before she did anything stupid, Dellia leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Ambrose," she whispered, and then ran out the door like a scared little rabbit to the safety of her room.


	4. Chapter 4

_Here it is, the final installment of my little "epic." Thanks for letting me share my fluff with you. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. And not just because of Ambrose's dimples. Or Wyatt's ass...but that's another story..._

**The End**

Ambrose remembered the first day Azkadellia walked into his office on her own volition. He was never sure what brought her there in the first place, only that she had come and that she continued to come around the same time every day without fail.

He worried, after the proposal letter debacle, that she would stop coming by, for it didn't take a genius to realize that she had turned to him for companionship in the absence of her sister. But no, she was there again, looking absurdly beautiful and vulnerable in a light blue sweater knitted from the fluffiest angora, and those close-fitting trousers that DG tended to favor. On Azkadellia slightly taller and more voluptuous figure, they were absolutely sensual. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that she was not only a princess, but eighteen years his junior. He had known her since she was a child for goodness' sake.

But whenever he looked at her, the Glitch side of himself—the side that seemed to defy logic and empirical evidence—could only notice how very, very beautiful she was.

And kind. She had been the sweetest child and now that she was exorcised, she was just as kind, though her intelligence had taken on a decided deviousness that she perhaps never would have learned without The Witch.

Oh, no one knew Azkadellia the way he did. They thought they did, but most of them had been exiled or imprisoned long before The Witch stopped hiding behind Azkadellia's innocent eyes and started showing herself in public. Ambrose had seen it almost immediately in her, for one day she had been a normal ten-year-old girl, and the next, she had been a stone-cold sociopath.

He had known that something had happened to her, and it wasn't until he had seen the tattoo on her back that he had started putting it all together. Ultimately, it had been his knowledge of Ozian history that had undone him. He suspected it was Elphaba. The original Dorothy Gale had banished the spirit, but she could not vanquish it. Only one possessed of The Light could have done it, and Glinda had not seen fit to do much more than seal the spirit into a catacomb. History usually painted Glinda into a fairly positive light, but somehow it never gelled for him. Ambrose had always felt a sort of…laziness when he read of The White Witch of the South. She seemed more content to foist her troubles off onto a weaker outsider than actually do anything herself.

Not that it mattered now. DG had managed to do what that long ago generation had not, and it was, so far as anyone knew, over with that particular evil. Of course, this was the OZ, and any other number of Evil might be waiting to have its way. Some even said that The West would ever have its wicked witch, and time would only bring him or her to light.

He mused over this while he waited for Azkadellia to enter his room again. He had hugged her, held her—something he had wanted to do for several months now—and he was still scared to death that when she ran off like a scared little kitten the day before, it was for good.

But oh, the feel of her lips against his cheek and her soft hair threading through his fingers...

Unconsciously, he lifted his fingers to that spot that still burned with her touch. His fantasies had run wild the previous night with the many, varied possibilities contained in that kiss. If he only had turned his head, or if he had forestalled her retreat.

Ambrose stood and walked to the large window that Azkadellia always looked out. The great mountains, purple in the late afternoon light, stood tall and proud, capped with white ice that hailed the turn of summer to autumn. Soon, the palace guards would start wearing their fur-lined capes and heavy boots and the maids would trade their short-sleeves for long ones and the queen would exchange her pastels for jewel tones. The Equinox would be hailed with a huge bonfire, cider drinking, pie contests, and a good old fashioned fair, if they could pull it off. If not at the Equinox, then certainly at the Solstice.

The door opened and Azkadellia walked in. At once, Glitch took over his brain. Maybe it was the pretty green dress she wore, or the way her braided hair fell over one shoulder. All he knew was that he nervously stuttered, "You came back."

She stopped moving and looked at him, her hands smoothing over her skirt nervously. "I…Yes."

He wanted to run to her and gather her in his arms and feel her lips on his cheek again, but he restrained himself. Instead, she came to him at the window and sat down on the little bench. He hesitated for a few moments before sitting next to her. Like a dream, her hand found his and she pulled it onto her lap. His brain opened a series of quantum reactions to this, instantly formulating how many steps he would need to take to carry her to the sofa at the other end of the room, the proximity of her lips to his, the logistics of locking the door while holding her, how much a beheading might hurt, and how hard Ahamo could punch if properly motivated.

Surely Wyatt and DG would come out on his side? DG was more than an 89% probability while Wyatt's acquiescence completely hinged on DG's complicity.

"What are you thinking about?" Azkadellia asked, her voice breaking through the mathematical equations in his head.

Ambrose almost shook his head at the sudden absence of probabilities, but Glitch managed to help him remember that the here-and-now was more important. "I'm sorry, Princess. I was thinking about you."

She blushed, but she did not look up at him. In fact, she seemed to be staring very hard at their clasped hands. He squeezed his around hers ever so slightly to bring her attention back to him, and she looked up at him after he cajoled her enough times. Her eyes looked green today, though they could be dark and black when she was angry and gold when she was happy.

"Why me, Ambrose?" she asked. "After all that I—she—did to you. How can you…"

He lifted his free hand to her face and lightly caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I honestly don't know," he said softly, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "At first, I fought it. You are so much younger than I am, and I knew you when you were but a child. It was unseemly. It probably still is. But, Princess…Dellia…I do love you. And as for the things _She_ did to me while inhabiting _your_ body, perhaps it is my overly-logical brain that keeps me from holding you responsible. I _know_ it was not you."

"But how?" she asked again. "Ambrose, I need to know, how do you know? How do you trust me when so few others do?"

He pulled her hands to his heart. "Is it so important to you? My thought processes?"

"Everything about you is important to me. Especially your thought processes. In fact, they may be the part I love best about you."

He laughed. "You only love me for my mind." But she had said that word. Love. She had said it.

"Would that be so horrible?" she asked with a smile.

"Everyone wants me for my mind. Just once, it would be nice to be wanted for my body. I mean, I know I'm no Wyatt Cain—"

"No, you're not," she said suddenly, which made his heart fall quite a bit. But her next words sent it soaring: "But if it matters to you, I do think you are a beautiful man and looking at you is a sort of poetry all its own."

"Oh, Dellia," he said and leaned in to kiss her.

"Wait!" Azkadellia put her fingers on his lips. "Please, Ambrose, I need to know. How is it that you can make a distinction?"

"Intuition, I suppose, if you want to call it that," he said simply. "I feel it. I felt it when you came back that day…you had been changed by something that was not you. It was an evil that, I think, could only be sensed."

Dellia seemed to contemplate this. "And what do you sense now, Ambrose?"

In answer, he took her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It was perfection, the feel of her against him. She melted into his arms, all warm curves and silk dress and the sofa at the other end of the room started to seem like an oasis, if only he could keep kissing her. The lock sorted itself out, as Azkadellia simply sent a wave of magic along with a privacy spell at the door that sealed it off for the rest of the afternoon. After that, it was all they could do to remove each other's clothing and lay down the crochet afghan that would collect the evidence of their little encounter. And then Azkadellia pushed him down and came on top of him, worshipping his body and leaving it completely understood that she found him as beautiful as he was intelligent.

And then he wrested control and made love to her in a similar fashion, exploring all of those parts that he had fantasized about: the area just behind her ear, down her neck to her perfect breasts, and then down her stomach to that place that was so sweet and made her cry out in such an exquisite opera of pleasure.

And finally—finally—their bodies joined to a chorus of _yes_ and _perfect_ and _wonderful_ and _more_ and they both knew deep inside, where their intuition lay, that it was what should be.

In the solar, DG was reading a letter to her mother when suddenly the oddest sensation stole over her and she felt momentarily dizzy and oddly delirious and then…

"Darling, are you well?" the queen asked.

DG closed her eyes and tried to focus on the center of the feeling. _Where did you come from_? she asked it.

"Mom, you know how sometimes Dellia and I sort of share emotions? Like, how she knew how I felt about Wyatt and how we can always find each other even though there's no possible way we should know where the other one is?"

"Yes, I admire that about you two."

DG smiled. "Well, I just had a feeling from her."

"A good feeling?"

"Mmmhm. The best. She's at peace." DG opened her eyes and smiled hugely at her mother. "Mom, she's at peace."

Lavender clasped her hands together and then kissed her youngest daughter. "Oh thank the heavens!"

The End (or is it...?)


End file.
